Lines In The Sky

Laying on my back in a wild wooded area Late November, amid an early dusk, A few clouds chase the sun Into the West. Looking upward and around Strange and mingled forms do I see, Blending with and deviding apart Each and every dark coursed tree. All is so still and serene With not even a splinter of sound; Though senses tell Something very real is residing Upon this ephemeral scene... A much deeper meaning Simply awaiting to be found. Beauty and mystery a mix An inspired, almost eerie sight One seldom seen, less often noticed, And only by those who so search On the very edge of a cold winter night. Like black boney arms and fingers Reaching down from the sky Those destitute illusions That both live and die! Coming down with enigmatic riddles to speak The kind seldom dared by souls to seek. In them the flames of heaven and hell Burn so close to each other Almost as if to show Once upon a time all were natural brothers. Light and shadow in this world coinside And coexist, Both contemplation and action Are means of grace that none should resist. Life, like lines aglow in an ever darkening sky, Like the free wind beginning to fly, Stands continuously at the very edge, A tenebrous silhouette drawn by light Aching to break the tight grip of night....... For even in the dark death of winter The fragile branch still holds the living bud of eternal spring, Only awaiting the all new life That the returning sun -someday- shall bring. 'When you are close to nature you can listen to the voice of God. ' - Hermann Hesse